A/N: Penultimate chapter - thanks for hangin' out with me. :D

Chapter 13 – Wendell

"Are you sure we all need to be here?" Wendell asked Hodgins uncertainly.

"Dr. Brennan may be a genius, but even she doesn't always recognize the particulate evidence that can be most useful. Besides, this is a first rate course."

Wendell tried to clear his throat loudly during the last bit of Hodgins' statement, as he had seen Dr. Brennan walking up to join them, but Hodgins had missed the cue.

"I don't believe I've heard you complain before, Dr. Hodgins," Brennan said. "If there is something I missed I would fully expect you to inform me."

Wendell tried to suppress a laugh as Hodgins backpedaled just a bit. "No, I ah… was just ah, giving you as a very broad example to Wendell about how sometimes graduate students assume too much…"

Brennan gave Hodgins a disapproving look before interrupting him. "Dr. Hodgins, while I am quite certain you are only here because you like 'field trips' and think you'll be able to play with your flying objects, perhaps you should focus on finding and matching up evidence that you feel certain I will miss."

"Right." Hodgins returned Wendell's grin with a glare as they gathered up their equipment.

"I am not sure what you are doing here, Mr. Bray. Are you also worried that I will miss something?"

Wendell felt the heat rush through him, cursing himself for letting Hodgins convince him that this was a good idea. "No, of course not Dr. Brennan. I just figured you might want an assistant. You know, someone else who understands exactly what you mean by how bones would break on certain objects—"

Brennan's frown of disapproval stopped him. Fortunately Booth arrived at that moment. "Good morning, Agent Booth!" he greeted him enthusiastically before whispering to Hodgins, "I told you we didn't need to be here."

"Were you able to obtain any useful information from Ms. Lewis or Mr. Pattinson?" Brennan asked.

"Nah. She's sitting like a clam and Pattinson can't be found. Angela's helping with our techs to see if he's left some kind of digital trail. We need to get some hard evidence on both of them, though." He walked over to the tee of the first hole. "I still don't get the point of this game."

"Well it's a lot cheaper than regular golf, for one thing," Wendell pointed out.

Hodgins laughed. "Have you seen how much some guys will pay for their discs?"

"I guess Parker might like it."

Hodgins handed Booth a disc. "Here. Try it out."

"So, I just have to throw this frisbee –"

"Disc," Wendell and Hodgins corrected simultaneously.

"—whatever – to that basket? That's the supposed challenge?" Booth picked up the disc, paused for only a second or two and threw it. It cut through the gap in the trees and landed three feet from the basket.

"Whoa," Hodgins stared incredulously.

"We're all going to need a handicap against him," Wendell noted.

"Sniper, guys. Why do you always forget that?" Booth started walking. "Right. So we're just starting with the first hole and going from there until we find something?"

"Yes, although we can initially confine our investigation to just the baskets," Brennan replied.

"Wind speed, direction, accuracy," Wendell mused aloud about Booth's sniper comment as he followed behind everyone.

"Plus he's very strong," Brennan called over her shoulder.

Wendell and Hodgins exchanged amused smiles.

Much of their search for evidence was uneventful. A basket here and there had some minimal blood spatter, which they sampled and photographed, but it wasn't until they had gotten to hole 11, near the creek, that they ran into their likely crime scene.

The basket led to plenty of evidence to convince them that DeGrast had at least been attacked at that hole. Assuming particulates matched, it appeared that DeGrast had been thrown against the top of the basket, fracturing his temporal bone. The cracked hyoid might have come from forcing DeGrast down and wrapping the basket chains around his neck.

"That kind of pressure could definitely impact the stress on his lungs, which were especially sensitive with his asthma," Brennan noted.

They still didn't have the match for whatever entered his femur and severed the femoral artery along the way. Holding the photo of the bone fracture, Wendell continued along the creek to the next hole. When he got to the tee off, he noticed the tee marker. It only came up about two feet, which would have been a difficult angle, so he doubted that it might be the implement, but as he started to hold the photo next to it, he felt more certain that it was.

In the distance, he heard faint shouts of his name. He excitedly turned to yell back his find, but suddenly found himself face-to-face with a knife.

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I'm not sure being a sniper has anything whatsoever to do with being able to throw a frisbee accurately, but whatever. :D